


Confetti

by intellexual_asexual



Series: Ego Short Stories [27]
Category: Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series)
Genre: KSDJHGDFKJHDFL, OH MY GOD THE WAIA ALREADY HAS A TAG JFGJAHLDFJ, no beta we die like actor mark, not wilford shoving his trauma into a robot skjfhgdkhfd, the king of projection, whaaaaaa im still crying over the waia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29940180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intellexual_asexual/pseuds/intellexual_asexual
Summary: He didn't know the gun was loaded. He didn't know. Was it his fault? (No.)
Series: Ego Short Stories [27]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2106381
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Confetti

**Author's Note:**

> OK here's the "No" version, specially crafted to make you cry more :)

“Wilford, what in God’s name makes you think I will allow you to keep… _that_?”

“Aw, Darkie, because you love me?”

Darkiplier mumbled, “more like _tolerate_ you,” as he shot another disgusted glance at whatever Wilford Warfstache had drug in this time. It was an old, run-down animatronic of sorts, and it resembled Wilford right down to his mustache. He called it the WAIA (or so Dark thought, since Wilford had just screamed), short for the “Warfstache Automated Interview Automation.” Wilford said he was preparing to use it to cover for more of his interviews, but he accidentally left it out in the rain a few to many times. Now it sat dejectedly in the Manor’s foyer, waiting for the head of household’s imminent decision as to how to dispose of it.

“Come on, Darkie! I can fix ‘em up in no time! Maybe you can get old Googster to lend me a hand?”

Dark sighed and turned away from the robotic abomination. “I doubt Google will want to help you with this… project.”

Wilford made puppy eyes, and Dark pointedly looked at a point over his shoulder as to not fall victim to them. “Please?”

“No. And that is my final decision. No amount of pleading, begging, or bribing will make me change my mind. Go find a suitable dumpster to place this thing in.” Dark gestured to the WAIA behind him, and Wilford slumped over, defeated.

“Fine.” He went away in a puff of pink smoke, and Dark turned back to watch over the WAIA. He knew Wilford drew inspiration from whatever kids pizzeria he frequented, and from the rumors Dark knew that their animatronics more or less malfunctioned at night. He didn’t want this thing malfunctioning and attacking the Ipliers, so he stood over it and observed it carefully.

Besides for the occasional twitch or exclamation of “potato salad,” the WAIA seemed harmless. Dark figured Wilford went to sulk either in his room or the television studio, since it had almost been an hour since he left. Dark sighed and started to walk away, heading to his office. He had plenty more important things to do besides babysit a pile of scrap metal.

“...A m̵̥̈́a̷̟͊n̸͍̅ goes to a p̷͕͂ḁ̶̈r̵̭̽t̶͚͘y̸͈̔.”

Dark froze. He turned back to the WAIA slowly, and he saw that it was now turned on. It was still sitting down where he had made Wilford put it, thank God, but it was talking.

“..̵̰̽.̷̼̊T̶̛͓h̴̼͛i̴̘̕s̶̨̀ ̶̪̇man ̶̦̕m̷͕̽ę̵̋t̶̡ ̸͉̈ạ̵́n̵̳̾ ̸̫̎ő̴̤l̶͖̕d̴̻̚ ̴̭̈friend.̸̜̋”

What was the WAIA saying? Had Wilford programmed it to tell stories along with asking questions? Dark made a mental note to tell Google about this as he listened further.

“...T̴͕́h̵̠̃e̴̕ͅ ̷̨̆t̶̘̋w̴̢͂o̵̭ ̷͕̚friends ̶̣̔ŝ̷͈h̸͔̓å̷͕r̵̲̄ë̷̝d̶͖̊ ̶̞̽s̴̡͒o̸̹͘m̴̡̈́ë̵̘́ ̴̖̎w̷͓̎ị̴͒n̵̮̕e̶̦.̶̳̀ ̴̬͆T̴̳͂ḫ̸̇e̵̙͒ ̷͎̋t̷̳̊w̷̩͋ò̸̡ ̸̹̕friends ̵͎p̵̟̈́l̶̺a̸̲͑ỵ̸̐è̸̪d̵̊͜ ̸̰̋a̵͓̎ ̴͂ͅgame.̸̹͑ ̵͖́T̸͉͝ḩ̴͑ē̶̬ ̷͉̔m̸̜̋ỏ̷ͅs̶̜̏t̸̪͝ ̵͈͠dangerous game.”

“...I didn’t know the gun was loaded. I didn’t know. Was it my fault?”

Dark was startled now. He knew what the WAIA was referring to. He knew _who_ the WAIA was referring to. Wilford mentioned something about scanning his thoughts into the WAIA. He must have really scanned all of them.

Dark approached the WAIA again. Of course it was William’s fault. He knew what he was doing with that gun, he knew it was loaded. He knew that it could kill Marc.

Although… 

Dark sighed. It could have been the House playing tricks on them. Maybe that’s how Wilford gained his reality warping abilities.

The WAIA made no further noises or movements as it waited patiently for Dark’s reply. 

“...No.”

Dark kneeled in front of the animatronic as he answered their question. The WAIA’s lights flickered as it immediately protested.

“You can’t change the past. You can tell all the stories you want to tell. It won’t change what happened. You can’t rewrite the past.”

So he did blame himself. William blamed himself for everything that happened that night. He thought he was the one to cause everything.

“If you live in fantasy forever, you’ll lose yourself in the story.

“...

“.̶̜́.̶̭̾.̴̙͋p̵̟̓o̴̯͋t̷͈̀a̸̝͌t̶͚͆ô̶͖ ̵̣̆s̴̭̓a̴̠͆l̵̢̈́ä̸̢d̴͎͝.̵̺͋”

Dark didn’t flinch as the WAIA suddenly sprayed confetti at him from their open chest cavity. He brushed some off of his suit as Wilford reappeared in a puff of pink smoke. Perfect timing.

“Okie dokie, Darkie, I found a dupster! Well, it’s actually Mike’s room, but I think it’ll—”

“I don’t blame you, William.”

Dark didn’t look up from the WAIA, but he could tell that Wilford was stunned. He didn’t need to look at him to tell that his mouth was hanging open or that his mustache was just beginning to turn brown. It was a while before Wilford was able to respond.

“Darkie, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m gonna assume it’s about my WAIA. It’s hideous, I know. Nothing can really quite capture my likeness, not even a brain scan!”

Wilford walked up to Dark, and he put an arm around his shoulders as Dark stood up. “I barely remember making that thing, y’know. I wish I did. I could’ve told you all about what it’s made of. Maybe old Googster can pick it apart and tell me before it’s scrapped!”

_‘I barely remember.’ ‘I wish I did.’_

William took his arm off of Dark. The two of them stood there in silence for a bit, staring at the WAIA. When William eventually spoke, his voice was a whisper, and his drawl had disappeared.

“It’s right, you know. You can’t change the past, Damien.”

Dark’s body gave the smallest of twitches as he allowed Damien to take over. The blue shadow engulfed William, almost clinging to him like it didn’t want to let him go.

“ _I don’t blame you, William. None of us— I’m sure that no one who was there blames you. It wasn’t your fault._ ”

Wilford shook his head and laughed. “Yeah it is! Of course it’s my fault for leaving my WAIA in the rain, no one else knew about it! Thanks for trying, though, Darkie. Y’know, you’re getting pretty soft.”

Dark regained control and sighed. He ignored the literal pounding in his head. “Just get them out of my sight. Please.”

“Sir yes sir!” Wilford saluted, and Dark frowned when he saw that his mustache was still brown at the tips. 

Wilford scooped up the WAIA and poofed away, and Dark hoped that he warned Mad Mike of his appearance beforehand. Dark picked the last of the confetti off of his suit, but stopped when he noticed that there was something written on it. 

On that tiny piece of confetti, the words “THANK YOU” were written in sloppy cursive. Dark slowly smiled and put it in his suit pocket before teleporting to his office.

**Author's Note:**

> Are you guys sadder yet? Don't get too too sad, because you'll need to save it for when Mad Mike meets the WAIA. :).  
> As always, make sure to leave a comment if you like this work, and don't be afraid to request another! (Oh yeah I still have to work on those oops)


End file.
